Thaumatrope
by Suibrom
Summary: On the supervillain prison The Raft, a prisoner is visited by a clinical psychologist who wishes to discover the secrets of his crimes and his true motivations. He's a broken man and a difficult study, can she learn anything? And just how stable is a man who has lost everything? Main character: Michael Morbius, Marvel 616 canon, rated Teen
1. Personal Space

The walls were clear mostly, in that way they gave the illusion of space but the illusion was easily shattered every time he stretched his sinewy arms and his clawed hands hit the six-inch thick shatterproof glass. There was no free space here, nor any privacy. There were times when he pondered how those in solitary confinement got more privacy than those in this section of the prison, as though they were being punished for the act of obeying and not lashing out.

He sat on his cot, covered at least with a soft green blanket and sheets. That had been a cruel joke. He'd failed the psych evaluation when he was committed here, a 'suicide risk' they called him. Normally that would disqualify one from blankets and sheets, materials that could easily be used to asphyxiate oneself, but the guard had laughed and piled them into his cuffed arms despite the evaluation results with the mocking words "He can't kill himself that way anyways, he's immortal." Michael tried hard not to hate the man, he spoke the truth after all, and it turns out the blankets were a small comfort in this uncomfortable place. He hated the cold, and had since the accident some forty years ago now.

As three heavily suited guards walked by he banged on the glass. They always looked like some sort of sci-fi action heroes to him, men in sheet metal armor and armed with guns that made the army's tech look medieval by comparison. But of course, Pym had built this place. "Hey! Hey!" He shouted through the small metal-grated covering allowing him to be heard in the hall. "It is lunchtime.. I need my food!" The intent was to sound dignified but it was lost with the power imbalance inherent in this situation. They were paid, he was a criminal. They couldn't care less whether he got fed or not. His large mutated ears twitched at a noise as the security detail shrugged and walked off, the movement that often happened without any conscious thought. Curt was awake, probably for lunch, the man in the cell next to his spent far too much time sleeping for Michael's taste but when he was awake the two could talk thanks to his ability to sense vibrations and Michael's own superhuman hearing. "Curt? you are up? Lunch is late.. I.." He heard a crunch, and a soft desperate squeak of a mouse's last plea for life. "Never mind, you have been fed. Why have I not been given my meal?" He huffed and sagged against the wall that divided the two enclosures.

"You have an appointment.. I heard the guardsss talking while you were asssleep." Curt crawled to the adjoining wall and sat, picking up another live mouse, taking this one whole into his maw and swallowing it. It fought a futile battle on the way down.

Michael turned his head to the side, one bat-like ear against the insulated tile. "So they are starving me for an appointment? Another want-to-be hero calling himself a doctor and taking my blood from behind safety bars I suppose? Wonderful. I don't get fed enough as it is. They keep taking blood and running cell samples and I'll go feral. How are you holding up old friend? It has been what, a month for you now?" He didn't smile but it was meant to be a joke. They had both been captured the same day, Morbius transferred here first, then Spider-man went back to catch the Lizard. It was his fault Michael was even here but he didn't blame Curt. With that man's accident there had been a split, two personalities, one body. He knew the Lizard caused Michael to be incarcerated that day but the man was mentally Curt now and he was one of the few that knew.

"It hasss been a month for you asss well. At least you are allowed ssscience journals and bookss. Ssspeak with me today."

"It is always a pleasure to talk with you doctor, would you like to hear about the newest breakthroughs that have been made with artificial peptide ch.."

"No, tell me a ssstory. One of your life before you came here. I am feeling less human today and I want to remember what it isss like."

His ear twitched again as though it was swatting an invisible insect and he sighed. "Very well, I will tell you of my wife, if that suits you. She is the only part of my human life I remember anymore."

Curt didn't respond. He curled up on the floor to listen as was his custom when he goaded Michael into speaking. Normally he stuck to professional subjects, chemistry, battles he'd had, music. He'd even sung once purely for Curt's benefit, simply because he had mentioned how long it had been since he heard music. Michael cleared his throat and continued. "Martine was a smart and brilliant woman, not in the way that we are brilliant, because we are actually fools. There were no plaques and accolades for her but she had the keen ability to be able to find the best in everything, even me. One joke and despite my troubles I would smile for her always, I would do anything she asked. Had she ever wanted the world on its knees I would have done my best to conquer it, but she would never ask such a thing." *He chuckled a little as a tear ran down his cheek, the words becoming quieter. "When I decided to stay away from her I thought it for the best. I thought I was dangerous, that she was fragile. I was wrong. She was strong and I was weak. That's why she sought out that doctor and found me in that abandoned building.. That's why she died in my arms. If I were a stronger man I wouldn't have run, I would have gone to her and protected her."

"It wassn't your fault Michael." Curt felt he had to speak up. Michael was obviously breaking down, weak indeed. "I have lossst my own family to this blassssted Lizard. I am sure she was lovely, but that iss in the passst Michael. Losss is pain.."

"Women are made of pain.." *He let the words slip as the rush of air hissed from beside him. The cell wall receded into the ceiling and there stood three guards, all aimed and one carrying the superhuman restraints he was accustomed to at this point. Behind the guards stepped a woman in civilian clothes carrying a clipboard. Her hair was the kind of red that you could only find in a bottle or on an unripe tomato, cut short and curled a bit at her neck. She was simply but professionally dressed in a suit jacket with skirt in mid tone grey, the sweater underneath a forest green and fuzzy. She wore glasses and tapped her pen impatiently on the paper as she spoke, the lines at the corners of her eyes scrunched in focus. "Doctor Morbius? It is time for your session."

He stayed where he was, taking in every detail and refusing to move. "I haven't been fed yet..."

"Your midday meal will be fed to you at my office. It is already waiting." She finally glanced up looking over his claws and white-grey skin. She didn't show any hint of nervousness and her voice had the flat affect of someone far removed from concerns of the situation. It was as though she were reading a poem with rehearsed precision.

"I don't need more blood tests.. I have been studied enough. You know no more than I could discover on my own. I am the world's foremost biochemist you know. It would be much more productive to give me my own labora.."

"This will be a psychological exam."

In the cell one over Curt listened and laughed. He could hear Michael's ego breaking, as he could each day with the indignities of life in a supervillain prison and it was hard not to see the humor in it. There was so little humor to go around.

"Oh.. one of those." Michael spat the words onto the ground in condemnation. Psychology, the refuse of the science world. He chose his next words carefully. "I would rather forego the evaluation. You already have my one from S.H.I.E.L.D., I refuse to participate.."

The woman tapped her pen again, making Michael start to wonder if it wasn't a nervous tell of hers. The guards just stood poised, as unmoving as gargoyles as she spoke. "So far Dr. Morbius you have a pattern of good behavior, it would be a shame to break it over something so trivial, but if you insist I could make a mark on your file, it will extend your sentence of course.."

He cut her off with an angry growl. "I have no sentence, no release date! I have no reason to cooperate as I do so if you are trying to blackmail me into an evaluation you can save yourself the trouble!"

She flipped through her papers, skimming for the right data. "Oh." The silence hung in the air as Morbius looked over at her with his arms folded around his knees, still seated on the floor. The orange shirt the prison had given him stayed on the desk of his cell and he wore only the pants, no shoes as they bothered his claws. He prayed he looked intimidating, he was a fit man at least and his more monstrous features tended to scare others, but much to his surprise she looked up unfazed. "Bribery then?"

"What?!" He showed his teeth as his jaw slacked a bit in surprise. "You want to bribe me.. to evaluate me?"

"Yes. what do you need? More books? They have said you seem to get bored easily. Music? I could have some piped in daily through the speakers.."

"Blood." He replied without a hint of emotion. "They don't feed me enough. I'm in pain."

She tapped her pen again and nodded. "I can probably swing that, if you cooperate with me. Now, the restraints."

The guards moved and he considered lashing out. He'd taken one out before the tasers hit him when he was brought in, had his teeth deep in the man's neck after he'd ripped off the armor, but instead he held out his arms and allowed the cuffs. The men still showed caution as they applied the restraints and walked with him. out into the hall. He glanced into her eyes for a second before the guard tapped him with a stick taser. "Eyes down!"

He hissed at the loud zap and stinging pain and she lifted her arms up, still holding the clipboard as she yelled out. "None of that! I read the file, he wasn't trying a mental hold and you're only making the situation worse. He's under watch and security is active. Stop."

Michael calmed but kept his eyes down at the floor as he walked, the guard huffed and followed her orders. She was obviously in charge for now and the woman continued down the hall ahead of them. Her heels clicking on the floor tile. Whatever kind of psych evaluation this was Morbius was now more than a bit intimidated by this woman, but if she could get him more blood he was willing to risk it.

He gulped down a forceful swallow of air and thought to himself. This wasn't going to end well.


	2. The Office

"What do you want me to say? Hello my name is Michael Morbius, I'm an addict, a monster? I screw up a lot and everyone around me has died as a result? I'm just tons of fun to be around, is that what you want to hear?" He sat hunched uncomfortably in the leather chair, on the other side of yet another piece of shatterproof glass. His hands moving in time with his words flitting in the air before folding with his arms tightly around his chest.

"Nothing so crude, Dr. Morbius. They warned me you had a dark sense of humor." She tapped her notebook impatiently and then leaned forward from her gray suede office chair to bump the glass. An action that startled him into sitting upright and staring through to her. The speaker that carried her voice came through once again as she pointed. "Behind you on the counter there's a warmer with blood. You were promised a meal."

He turned nervously scanning the faux granite countertop and there sat a thermos inside a cylindrical device. He took clawed fingers to grasp the lid and it beeped, an indicator light coming on and a small puff of air popped the thermos up as if it were toast that was now crispy and ready for breakfast. He almost laughed. "I normally get it cold in bags, what is this?You're not planning to poison me are you?"

"It's a modified baby bottle warmer, goes to human body temperature. I thought you would appreciate the effort Dr..."

He was already gulping downing the contents while she replied. Poison, drugs, it didn't matter. Without it he would go feral and then where would he be. The blood was clean of course, freshly donated and free of chemicals. It had been so long since he had anything that comforting that he closed his eyes for a second in savoring it, afterwards hungrily licking the rim of the now empty thermos and his lips. She raised an eyebrow at him through the glass with a somehow still-cold gaze.

"Hungry were we?" It sounded mocking and was the wrong thing to say, she knew it as soon as the words left her lips. His eyes shot open, red slashed orbs analyzing her eyes again with a sneer plastered across his face. He was a caged animal, it was easy to forget in a place like this. They were all caged animals.

"I'm not an animal..or a monster really. I'm just a man."

She blinked and lowered the notebook to her lap while he stared at her unmoving. "Dr. Morbius please get out of my thoughts. It's because I made eye contact isn't it?"

He sat back smugly. "Lucky guess. If I were in your mind you'd feel it."

Damn him, she squinted in his direction and sat back prepared to finally take some notes. "Do you take pleasure in invading other's thoughts?"

"No."

"You don't?"

"I'm sorry I was not clear, I meant no. No as in I'm done talking. You fed me, you can take me back right now and drop someone else's IQ with this foolishness. I don't need the blood that badly." He stayed leaned back in the chair, arms crossed but rather than look at her he focused on the motivational posters plastered around him with headings like 'Dream of a better you' and 'Reach for your goals'. His lip curled yet again. The walls would be less offensive in plain beige, fire would improve the decor significantly.

She sighed and put down the book, fingers combing through her red hair in aggravation. "You'd really rather be alone, in your cell, where you have been for the last three weeks, _again alone_ , rather than talk with me?"

He almost cracked a smile as he nodded and mouthed "Yes." in agreement.

"You know I don't have to get them to escort you back until our talk is done?"

He glared at her without turning his head. "I'll sit here then. I'm done talking."

"Dr. Morbius, this is childish. Would you say you're emotionally immature?"

It was a wasted effort. He refused to respond in any way. Wrong strategy, she noted.

"You said you were in pain? How much blood do they give you? There are rules against cruelty in confinement. Even if you won't talk to me I could try to do something." She looked up again to meet red eyes staring her down. He obviously didn't trust her and was analyzing her yet again. However Instead of more obstinance the words that came out of him caught her by surprise.

"Why _are_ you so willing to look me in the eyes?"

"I've read everything on your condition I could get a hold of, yes, even your somewhat edited and blacked out A.R.M.O.R. file. Secretive people aren't they? Make S.H.I.E.L.D. look like the Boy Scouts of America. None of what I've read suggested you ever used the power in a situation not involving your own self-preservation, so in short I am trusting you."

"Trust in me is misplaced, I already told you I screw up a lot, endanger those around me. Just ask your hero Spider-man." He gave an honest to god smirk, trying so hard to not admit to himself that this was the most entertainment he'd had in weeks. "I get three pints a day, enough to survive but not be comfortable. There are times when I've been able to drink five liters in one sitting. What is it with you Americans and the metric system? As if liters and meters will break you as a country. What foolishness are pints? Barely a drink."

He rambled on and she smiled a bit taking a few notes now that she had him seemingly at ease. "I'll see if I can get you more, now will you talk a bit? These sessions will be once a week."

He leaned back with a deep breath, hands folded in his lap as he calmly stared again at the posters in front of him. "I'm not going to talk about anything personal. I want you to know that now."

"Whatever you're comfortable with."

"And the meals will be a requirement."

"But of course."

"From that... pleasant warmer.. thing." He waved his hand at the device on the counter with a lazy flick of his wrist.

She tried hard not to laugh. "We are in agreement then?"

There was a pause before he responded in kind. "I suppose we are. Forgive me if I know no weather to mention, nor the local sports team's victories or defeats. I mostly read."

"And talk." She tapped her pen again. "You talk to the lizard, the cameras show you doing so."

He froze up completely, crossing his arms. Damned if he'd out his friend. "The Lizard can't talk, his mind is gone. I'm just amusing myself..."

"Yet you still talk to him, I even saw tape of you singing once. What was the song again?"

He groaned and slumped forward, elbows on his knees and hands rubbing his face. "The Sound of Silence.."

"Simon and Garfunkel? Really? A bit melodramatic perhaps."

"My tastes are eclectic, as my age is older than it seems Miss... dear god I don't even know your name." Hands were still rubbing his head. This was a bit much to deal with.

"Doctor Autumn." She corrected, pen dashing between her fingers in the air like the conductor's baton it may as well have been.

"Autumn." He replied, making it a point to leave out the title, turning his head towards the glass with a tiny twitch of his lip. "A man such as myself has odd tastes.."

She jotted down a few more words, connecting a loose venn diagram bubble to another. The page now full of various circles encapsulating words. A sky full of balloons, it had always been her favorite way to map mental connections. "I had heard you enjoy disco. Little-Sky made a note of what he called the _cacophony coming from the biology lab_."

"Oh of course they wouldn't censor that in their damned files!" He growled. "I suppose they also made note of the time I got drunk and hit on one of the female guards?"

She stopped mid drawing with her lips pursed in confusion and her eyebrows raised. "No mention of that. Perhaps you'd like to talk about it?"

He leaned to the side to lay his head down on the counter a bit more loudly than he'd intended. The thump reverberated through both sections of the room as did his groan of pain afterwards. "No. I think I'll pass. Please forget I mentioned it. It never happened."

"Are you sure? Because I think it sounds fascinating. What exactly do you find attractive in women?"

"Please stop."

"..I mean physically of course, though I should ask if you often have to be drunk to approach women?"

"Please..."

"That is common for a lot of men you know? Most often for men who project hopes and fears onto their partners, do you tend to view women as better than men, or worse?"

"Stop.." He thumped his head again on the counter but turned when the sound of her laughing came through the speakers.

"Relax, we're done for the day. I have all I need for now, I was just seeing how you would respond to some light teasing. Please don't break my office countertop." She stopped the laughter, though a mischievous smile remained and he stood as she buzzed for the guards who stepped in from the now open section of wall. Morbius was stunned into silence as he was forcibly cuffed and caught a last glance at her through the glass before being pulled from the room by gruff hands clad in armor. He saw the smile on her lips and swore under his breath on the walk back to his cell now convinced that she was the most confusing woman he'd ever encountered.


	3. The Struggle

Oh, this is worrisome. Jessica Autumn thought to herself as she looked over the vampire cuffed and being led in through the glass. The first thing she noticed was the blood in coagulated streams at his mouth, standing out as bright crimson and brown against the neon orange of the prison uniform. There was a snap judgement before she noticed that the stream started at his nose. The guards roughly shoved him into the chair and receded as the wall closed, taking positions on the outside with a bit of static and chatter.

"What happened?"

There was a groan, not one of pain but instead one of exasperation. "Just... some μαλάκα.. they forced me out of my cell for some _light socialization_. Something about humans needing it, and them trying against cruel imprisonment conditions.. ηλίθιοι.." He sat up and looked around, sure enough there were two thermoses on the counter behind him. He took the one in the warmer as the device beeped and downed it, chugging without breathing.

"That doesn't answer my question."

The first now empty he grabbed the second thermos and drank it cold, no plugging it in and waiting for the device to work. "It's not important. I don't think they're going to attempt to let me into the general population here again." He chuckled, gargling a bit accidentally as he did so.

She leaned forward, already tired of fighting with him for information and he'd scarcely been in the room for a minute. "Michael.."

"Doctor Morbius." He chided, correcting her smugly.

"Doctor Morbius, what happened in the general population this morning?"

He finished the blood, licking a drop off the rim and turned his head to her. "As I said, it was some fool trying to make a name for himself. Tiger Shark I think. Environments like this... the toughest survive but they think they need followers. Someone to do their dirty work and kiss their ass for simply existing." He grinned darkly while finally wiping some of the crusted blood from his face onto the bright orange shirt. "I showed him what a bite can do..."

"Where is he now?"

"Med bay, they hauled him off on a stretcher." He sat back getting comfortable for the day's discussion. "I may look vanquished but I get back up after I go down, and I never forget a slight like that..."

She had been wondering about this line of questioning for a while but previously had decided against it. It seemed the time to press. "Dr. Morbius, you didn't die today?"

"No, he broke my jaw and my nose, that was all. They healed." He closed his eyes, enjoying the light hum of the air conditioning and the relative comfort of the chair.

"But you have died in combat before."

"Many times..." The words came out a bit worried and rushed.

"You don't fear death?"

"No. There are times where I have tried to welcome it as a friend.."

"What did you see when you died? I know you're not a man of faith." She cut straight to it, there was no use toying around anymore.

"Nothing most times. Death is empty.. the absence of life." He blinked, this was far outside of his comfort level already.

"And other times?"

"Other times.. I.." It almost looked like he would continue, his thoughts were rushing faster than his heartbeat but she made a mistake. A large, possibly fatal mistake.

"In your profile you told them you had seen Martine Banc.."

He stood in a flash of speed, ripping the bolted down countertop from its frame. Nails stood like broken teeth among splinters of wood as he snarled and hurled it into the glass. It was thick, and strong and held leaving only one long circular web-like crack for the impact but the reaction was instant. Sirens blared and the guards opened the wall to fire in two tasers as he screamed. She was up against the glass and trying to sort her keycards to find the right one as it seemed everyone yelled at once. "Don't you DARE use her name!" "Hold Still!" "Shit!" "Stop!" "Security? This is a five thirteen, I repeat, we have a five-thirteen!" "Goddamnit, I missed him, Rogers watch it!" Morbius hissed as the current went through him, dropping him down to his knees before he fell completely, landing on his chest and neck with his arms to his sides like a jointed doll.

She held her breath amid the com static and weapons.

She'd found the right card.

She stepped through, waving her hands and yelling as the guards tried to haul Michael up by his limp arms. "Pym gave me personal authority for this evaluation! Leave him here until my time is over! The furniture can be repaired!"

They all looked among each other trying to ascertain just who was crazier, her or the prisoner. Probably her but she would be damned if another violent patient would prevent her from finishing her evaluation. "Leave him!" She stomped a foot as though the very noise it created was evidence for her side. Two of the guards radioed, the rest stepped back, though not into the hallway. Mostly they chatted amidst themselves and seemed to place wagers over how long the good doctor on the floor would last in this place. She seemed to agree with the short guard with the Boston accent, not very damn long at this rate. She retreated back behind the glass to wait.

* * *

"Michael?" The woman smelled like Jasmine. Her blonde hair fell in waves and brushed his neck causing him to squirm.

"Martine?" The room was hazy.. too cloudy, something was wrong, but it was his home. The maroon sheets, beige walls, immaculate mahogany end table with an empty tumbler from the night before. Damn, he'd forgotten to use a coaster. What had he been thinking? "Mmmm.. Martine it's early. I don't have work today can't we sleep in?" He smiled and wrapped his arms around her. The weight of him forcing her back down into the pile of blankets on the bed. It was warm, safe and warm.. and a bit wet. His eyes shot open as his hand came up from the dampness to view the shocking red liquid. Red.. so red! Why always blood. "Martine?!" He sat up as she coughed. The bullet holes woven through her chest, her lungs, and her heart. The one thing that he once held in higher esteem than any other thing on the planet. "Not again... Not this!" He pulled her close and buried his face into her.

"Michael you have to wake up..."

Her voice was broken, wrong somehow. He paused and looked around alarmed.

"Wake up Michael.. wake up.."

* * *

A groan from the floor indicated his consciousness as the guards still issued reports to their higher ups. She had been done arguing minutes ago, breaking the conversation with Troy Rogers class two security officer in order to call over the speaker to her holding room through the glass. "Michael wake up.. was that you? Are you back with us?"

"..It's.. Doctor Morbius, not Michael goddamn it all... what happened?"

She clicked the small button down again. "You were tasered, Dr. Morbius. your heart didn't stop though. Tell me how you feel?"

Not this again. This had to be some kind of hell that he was trapped in due to his past sins. It would explain everything quite well. "I need to rest. I've had a hard day." He tried to sit up but he was cuffed behind his back, UV lighting set up over him, and the psionic dampeners in the room were cranked up to the max level. Yes, hell seemed about right. "I am sorry.. about your countertop."

Jessica sighed, stopping the guard from any further words by signing the paperwork she was holding and shoving it at the man with all the speed of a fastball to his ribs. "Take him back and feed him. We'll finish the session next week."

"Doc's already had his meal here." Troy couldn't give a shit about the man who would gladly have ripped all their heads off and drunk from them like a fountain.

"He's healing. You'll need to provide an extra meal. According to my reports he lashes out more when.."

He interjected. "S'cuse me miss, but it's one meal. Period. Take it up with my boss if you have a problem. Brad, get him out!" He waved his arms and Michael was hoisted by cuffed arms again. He didn't fight back. There was no point, he just wanted to be left alone and at least he'd be away from the damned lights, so they drug him like a wounded animal. Jessica could hear laughing in the hall as another escorted prisoner saw him and apparently thought it was the funniest thing he'd seen in years. "Now, if you're quite done, Octavius is dying but the old bastard is hanging on by the skin of his teeth. We have to run extra patrols by the room."

"Fine fine. Get out." She sounded angrier than she'd intended and motioned to her door. Nothing was going as planned and it seemed the entire Raft was on edge. Something was going to go down soon. Anyone with half a brain left could feel it in the air. She just prayed the staff would be safe and that maybe she could glean some small bit from that damn vampire before security precautions caused her to vacate the prison and scrap her analysis altogether. She moved to her diagram, taking her pen and underlining the bubble she'd made with the heading 'Antisocial personality disorder' She tapped it twice before setting the notebook down.


	4. Escape

It had been a week since his last incident and Michael Morbius was still restless. Sitting in the armchair of the evaluation room he fidgeted and stopped himself from clawing up the upholstery. As odd as it was he still forgot about his claws sometimes leading himself to a bit of a realization as his eyes went wide. The mannerism wasn't lost on the psychologist watching him from behind the glass, she had yet to speak, letting him stew in silence until now.

"Doctor Morbius, is something the matter?"

"No.. I just.." He paused and stuttered a bit, his Greek accent coming through heavier than it did normally. "I was just thinking about my life... about time."

She wound her pen through the air as though reeling in a fish caught on her line. Her sequined purple sweater crinkling as she leaned forward. "And?"

"I've been a monster longer than I've been a human..." He rested his hands on his knees, looking down at the floor.

She leaned up, grabbing her notebook and scooting her chair forward towards the glass. This was actually a bit of a breakthrough. "Would you like to talk about that?"

"After last week... I owe you a good session don't I? We can talk about everything.. the night I changed, my wife, all of it..." He looked up, eyebrows knitted together in a sad expression. "What do you want to know?"

This was surprising. He'd always been less than cooperative before. "The actual question is different Michael. What do you want to tell me?"

He took in a deep breath and let it out, his eyes closing and ears laid back. "I was never normal. Between the diseases and the way I was raised I had no chance of coming out able to function in society. It always hits men like with those traits it seems, so maybe it was fate that I was made a monster. Like Octavius, Banner, Conners, ...Richards, Doom, Xavier.. we were already screwed up from the day we were born. Monsters good or bad, every one of us. So I thought differently and they had names for it.. you have names for it. Antisocial personality, narcissistic, anxiety disorder.. I had professionals like you lob the words at me for years but when you're the next big medical researcher rising through college classes at sixteen and graduating magna cum laude people stop caring about slapping labels on you and they start caring about your work.. how they can use it, how they can use you...

In reality if I had a decent example of a family in my life that's all I would have wanted to do with my time. Marry, have some children and create a nice loving home for them. Prizes come and go, money can always be obtained in other jobs, but I lost every chance I had long before I ever mixed that damned serum. Thirty-six years. Thirty-six goddamned years I worked day and night to become what I was before I ever met a woman who could tolerate me, before I had a sliver of happiness... I never had the good sense to quit. You want to know about my life? I lived in one room until I was eight, my mother never let me leave lest I injure myself, so I read, and read, and READ. I knew physics at ten but not what a cartoon was, or what playing soccer felt like. I was still a virgin in my thirties! I had no idea what dancing felt like or why anyone would do it! Five times that year before I met Martine I felt like blowing my own brains out and now I'm here. In this wonderful place realizing that HAD I have blown my own head off I really wouldn't have affected much negatively and saved myself decades of walking around as an abomination..."

He snorted and laid his head back on the chair to stare up at the ceiling. She merely blinked in surprise. "Has anyone ever told you you're depressing as hell?"

It was so unexpected that he snorted again with laughter, lifting his head to look at her. "That's why I'm here isn't it? Depression, disorders, diseases the serum couldn't fix. Why are you here?"

"This isn't about me Michael..."

"I beg to differ. You chase around dangerous men in the least safe prisons in the world in order to find out what makes us tick. There's something there."

She held her breath, she'd called him Michael again but he didn't correct her. He hadn't corrected her since the tantrum he'd had. "So what does make you tick?"

He smirked, an expression a bit foreign to his features that made him look as though he had dark intentions. "Blood... before that, Martine."

She was going to ask if he'd finally like to speak in depth of her. To give some indicator she was more than trauma in his life but before she could even try he waved his hand in the air, dismissing the thoughts, but he did continue.

"You want to know about her, don't you? It does no good. It's like describing color to a blind man. You had to have experienced her..." He turned inward again, laying his clawed hands down on his legs to flex them and look at the lines the talons made. Distracting himself, something he was used to.

"So if you're so miserable, if you don't want to kill and there's no chance of ever getting her back why did you resist your captor so much? He caught you while fleeing full speed."

"Spider-man... you can say his name." He sucked in a breath between teeth and sat back up straight. "I want to be free. As horrible as my life is it is a million times worse in this place. Out there in New York, there could be a chance at something."

She was struck speechless. It seemed such a broadly romantic thing to say, a weird statement by a man who considered himself coldly logical. "Something?"

"Happiness..." He looked into her eyes as the lights went off, sirens blaring overhead and he clutched his ears in pain. "I didn't do anything! Tell them to halt that racket!"

She pulled up the phone and dialed but no one answered. "It's not you, something is going on!" As she spoke three guards, not four, and one only half equipped opened the door yelling. "Lockdown! All prisoners to their cells! Hands behind your back and let's go. Dr. Autumn, you're coming with Tim here to the saferoom! Now Fangy! Move it!" He barked the orders like a drill sergeant. Michael would have hissed if he weren't in pain from all the damned noise, while on the other end of the glass Autumn gathered her notes into her arms which pissed off the guard.

"No time lady! Now!" Morbius looked over at her closely. She was scared. All the time around criminals and she had never imagined them free and able to hurt her. He knew it in his mind. That's what this was, a breakout, an attack. There were no other options. With his hands cuffed he stood and stepped into the hall into a puddle. _Water?_ He ran scenarios through his head and turned around. "Good bye.. doctor."

She looked up, forced through the door by the guard to stare the vampire in the eyes. This was bad, the man was going to run and she knew it. She could have said something, had them sedate him before taking him back to his cell but she didn't. His words nagged at her thoughts. "You as well, doctor. See you next week."

"But of course.." The accent was heavy and he smirked as he was led off. Somewhere down the hall he heard a scream over the deafening sirens. He was put into his cell without struggle and though they left the cuffs on he tore them off inside letting them clatter to the floor. A voice came through lightly and he put his ear to the wall. Conners, of course. "Trapssster and Hydro-man. They are breaking out Octaviusss." He hissed in the air like a snake. Conners was happier in this place, it was his penance, his peace, but to Michael this was his chance. He pounded on the glass as the men came by, hoping to get their favor. "Octavius! I can help you! I can work!"

They turned, ignoring him and instead beckoning to Conners. He snorted. The damned Lizard was convinced he should stay.

"Hey! You sons of a..." The door was splashed with a crest of water and a loud buzzing sounded. He stepped back but then touched it. It budged, Another push, a bit more and he slipped through. _Loose, out of my cell. I need to run._ He clenched his teeth and stepped past Conners' cell. the villains were gone. They'd teleported, Conners' tail whipped the glass with a loud thump.

"Morbiussss, where do you think you are going?! You are wanted! You need to ssstay, you are dangerousss!"

He paused to look at his scaly and very green friend, the poor bastard. His was a different kind of prison. "I don't know Curt... but out there, there is a chance. I'll get past the guards. Don't worry about me, I'll be free.. I'll be... free." He repeated the words like a mantra and ran. It was either stay in the cage or flee. All the blood on his hands couldn't hold him back if it never held anyone guilty back. He thought about Martine, Curt, Emil, Dr. Autumn, but he dismissed the thoughts. This was a last chance, others could only hinder him and as he reached the edge of the island he focused, tried to lift up but the dampeners still affected his flight. He looked down at the ocean and thought about that day on the yacht. He hadn't wanted to hurt her.. his Martine. But she was gone now.

Something finally snapped in him. He took one step off, falling as he smiled. Free.


End file.
